Broken Glass by the Nightstand
by isshu
Summary: Four in the morning and Flynn was seeing stars, though he was quite certain he wasn't dreaming. Yuri wouldn't have looked so lifeless if he was. (In which Duke gives Yuri to Flynn after the events of Zaude.)
1. Prologue

Flynn's ongoing stint as an Imperial Knight allowed him to learn more about himself in ways he had never imagined. He discovered that he was a very meticulous, calculating man when under pressure— while the other soldiers in his brigade were reduced to primal instinct and adrenaline in the face of combat, Flynn was able to keep his cool, using strategy to win a battle rather than the gamble of might. Tight situations perturbed him, certainly, but he was able to step back and analyze things with a clear, collected mind, a trait that was obviously lost between his peers.

… Which was why Flynn was hunched over an impromptu table in a room in Zaude, attentively drawing circles and lines over a large map of the Inner Ocean. Brave Vesperia left the shrine hours beforehand, led by Raven, who, outwardly, was the only composed one in the group. Estelle had been sobbing for hours, Rita paced in circles until the soles of her shoes gave in, Judith simply stayed silent, and Karol began to yell at the ocean to bring his friend back. It was in their best interest to go home, and it was now Flynn's duty to continue the search for Yuri Lowell.

Though Sodia's heavy steps promptly filled the room with sound, Flynn was unmoved. His second-in-command had grown used to this new, stoic, unaffected man over the past few days and learned to speak without being formally addressed, taking the liberty to address important issues on her own. "Commandant," she remarked, still familiarizing herself with how the title felt on her tongue— how long had she waited to call him that? Flynn did not budge in respect to her presence; instead, he drew a red line on the map.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, sir, but … it would be in the Knights' best interest to return to land," she continued, trying her hardest not to falter. "It has been three days, and our rations have already been cut dry, and …"

"By all means, prepare the ship for departure." Flynn drew another red line; this time, with a hint of vexation. "I will not be leaving, however."

Sodia flinched, but only on the surface—a part of her knew that she would receive such an answer. It almost pained her to see her commander's loyalty in action; Yuri Lowell was gone, either due to his injury or due to the ocean, or maybe a combination of both, but Flynn still traded hours of sleep for hours of deliberating search routes and strategies.

"If you choose to stay, Sir, I will stay with you," she said, confident for the first time in days. Flynn turned and smiled at her, a gesture that she knew translated to _I'm sorry I've been on edge_, and _I'll find him soon, I swear_.

She gathered herself and turned to leave, but stopped short at the swelling sound of a chuckle. Flynn was suddenly _laughing_, holding his sides as he tried to catch his breath, and Sodia couldn't help but to question his sanity. _Did he already break?_

"You know, when we were kids," Flynn began, covering his mouth, "Yuri would always disappear. Would always leave. And everyone would spend hours and hours searching every nook and cranny for him, even though he would run away to the same place every damn time."

Sodia bit her lip. This was becoming too much, but she couldn't help but to entertain him. "… Where would he go?"

"The ocean. He would grab his wooden sword and venture out to the shore and just sit there with Repede and watch the waves for hours." Flynn was still laughing, but his face was suddenly somber. "Isn't it funny how history repeats itself? Here I am, searching for him, hoping that he'll turn up at the shore again."

It _was _funny, in a way. Sodia had finally gotten what she really wanted— a heart-to-heart, a moment of vulnerability with the man she admired the most— but in the end, it was more bitter than it was sweet.

* * *

The sky above Zaude was one of the clearest firmaments he had ever seen, fully complete with deep blues and purples and subtle golden hues— nothing like the dull, gray sky above Zaphias. Flynn felt a pang of guilt, standing on the same platform where his best friend disappeared and his superior was crushed to death, turned into nothingness, but the air inside of the shrine tasted of a stagnancy and sadness he could breathe no longer. He looked down, carefully eyeing the waves, and that was when he heard the footsteps.

They were light and fleeting, yet ominous—nothing like those of a lost soldier who had been left behind. Flynn was raising his blade above its sheath, readying himself to attack if need be, when the steps stopped just as quickly as they began.

Quickly turning his head, he was greeted by the sight of a tall man standing at the other side of the platform with flowing gray hair, red eyes, and a rather rigid frown. He did not appear to be too much of a threat, but Flynn's analysis was preliminary at most—here, nothing was what it seemed to be. He _was _devoid of a weapon, however; instead of a sword, he held a bundle of white cloth in his hands.

Flynn's voice was raw, but he still managed to shout. "Are you one of Zaude's endless mysteries, or do you have a reason for appearing before me?" The man stared at Flynn, eyes fervent and impassioned, yet his attention seemed to be elsewhere.

"… My name is Duke Pantarei," he answered, his voice rich and heavy with languor. The bags under his eyes mimicked Flynn's, and the knight wondered if _anyone _on this damned island had been blessed with sleep.

"And what exactly brings you here?" _Or more importantly, to me? _Flynn was more curious than he was intimidated at this point, and for good reason: the Enduring Shrine of Zaude was not a tourist attraction, nor was it listed on any map in the Empire. There were only supposed to be three groups here: those who were loyal to Yuri, those who were loyal to Flynn, and those who were loyal to Alexei. … Which group did Duke belong to?

For the first time in minutes, the other man flashed what could have been interpreted as a smile. "I believe I have something that you have been … searching for," he mused, eyes travelling downward, and Flynn followed his gaze until they were both staring at the covered bundle in the other man's arms. Whatever Duke was carrying seemed large, heavy, and _wet_, and— well, _shit_.

Flynn was a very meticulous, calculating man under pressure, but _calculations be dammed_— he was suddenly sprinting towards Duke at breakneck speeds, almost tripping over his own boots in the process. The gray-haired man was unperturbed and relaxed as he set the bundle down, taking two steps back to distance himself from the frantic knight. Flynn fell to his knees and tugged at the discolored material, pulling it away until he saw the top of a head, and then a face, and then a body.

And there he was— unconscious, cold, and _alive_. His clothes were torn and tattered, stuck to his skin like glue; his breathing was harsh and irregular, coming in and out like broken radio waves. His shirt was partially raised, revealing his torso, which was intricately wrapped with what seemed to be an improvised compress. Blood protruded from below his ribcage, and it looked oddly fresh. Flynn wasn't sure if he should puke or cry.

"I lent Yuri a keepsake of mine, a short while ago," Duke admitted, arms crossed, "And I couldn't afford to have it lost to the sea." He walked closer to the edge, his attire moving with the wind. "And while I am in need of the weapon, I believe that the man … belongs to you."

There were a few more footsteps and then the only things around Flynn were Yuri's unconscious figure and the deep blues and purples of the Inner Ocean's sky. Four in the morning and Flynn was seeing stars, though he was quite certain he wasn't dreaming. Yuri wouldn't have looked so _lifeless_ if he was.

* * *

(A/N): This is my first fic with multiple chapters, but I have a lot of ideas when it comes to the plot, so things should go smoothly. I hope everyone enjoys!


	2. An Unwelcome State of Affairs

Sodia was going insane.

She had been slipping away from the knights at various times over the past three days, venturing into the depths of Zaude and exiting the shrine by the shore. Once there, she would dip her dagger into the water, scrubbing it for what felt like hours until it shone with an intensity that could only mean it was cleaned, purified. Reviewing her work at night, she would admire how the blade glistened beneath the stars; the following morning, she would witness a drop of blood that certainly wasn't there the day before. Yuri Lowell's blood was as persistent as he was, at least in her feeble mind— it wouldn't disappear, as much as she prayed to the Gods it would.

She found herself at the shore for the third time that night, using the fabric of her uniform to wipe off the newest addition to her blade. She caught a glance of the "fresh" blood— a small splatter that trailed down the hilt— while she was dismissing the Knights, saluting them with an air of superiority as they departed the shrine. The only explanation Sodia could give herself was that Lowell's ghost was haunting her, leaving a drop of blood on her possessions for every drop of blood he bled while floating in the ocean.

Yes, because that made complete, _rational _sense.

She dried her weapon and composed herself as she rose from her knees, reassuring herself that everything would be okay— this was _normal_. She made a rash decision, and raw emotions often led to regrettable actions. She knew this. She committed a vile act. She _knew this_. But she also knew that certain events were being overlooked and someone had to take charge. Someone _had _to do something. If she didn't confront Yuri Lowell for what he had done, someone else eventually would have. She just happened to get to him first.

Sodia entered the shrine again and weaved through the hallways, climbing up the last set of glass stairs when she heard heavy footsteps ahead. She was happy to see her superior, eager to commence a discussion, and saluted him almost immediately when he came into view.

And then she saw the body Flynn was carrying and _screamed._

* * *

Flynn had never been so proud to be an Imperial Knight. Upon hearing that Alexei's interests had diverged from those of justice, the soldiers— guards, lieutenants, captains, even civilians who had retired from the ranks— banded together, lending their services to Flynn's cause. The Council appointed him as the Acting Commandant the night before his ship departed, and his men followed his orders as if he had been the Commandant all along. Though Yuri's team was completely responsible for Alexei's defeat, Flynn's men acted behind the scenes: they cleared the shrine of beasts, combated Alexei's Royal Guard, and supplied Brave Vesperia with provisions (Yuri was never one to pack the necessities). It felt weirdly fresh switching roles with Yuri, letting him steal the show while Flynn secured everything from behind the curtains.

Awakened, angered monsters became lifeless heaps of flesh by the end of the Knights' takeover of Zaude, their sharp cries slowly dying down until the only sound in the shrine was the lasting tune of crackling glass. Rooms that once served as breeding grounds for beasts became temporary quarters overnight, completely cleared of threats and filled to the brim with shoddy beds and cots. Assorted gel wrappers and unpaired socks were left on the ground, already wet and moldy from the occasional rise of the tide, abandoned by the motley group of knights that occupied the chambers just a day ago. Flynn reminded himself to reprimand his soldiers when he eventually returned to the capital, but parenting his men was the least of his issues now. At most, he was grateful for the facilities they had left behind.

Flynn placed Yuri on one of the sturdier beds, hoping to patch him up before they left Zaude for good. While he didn't have a plan, he knew that staying at the shrine any longer could be fatal—Yuri was not in a good place and the knights had taken most of their supplies with them when they left. And then there was Sodia—her state had slowly been deteriorating ever since they set foot on the island. He noticed her disappear every so often, and when she returned to the group, her face would convey paranoia. She was absolutely hysterical when she saw Yuri draped on Flynn's back, which was odd and unprecedented; Sodia had certainly seen people in similar situations, but yet she was driven to tears by a man who she openly distrusted. It was obvious that the circumstances had taken a toll on the both of them, and the only thing left to do was leave.

After Sodia had calmed down, she offered to scope the premises for medicine that had been left behind. Flynn had to admit that she was a great help, and was everything he had wanted in a second-in-command: determined and persistent.

"I found more gels in a rucksack … I believe we have enough." Sodia was hesitant, cautious: searching for provisions was easy, but the hardest part was yet to come. Flynn frowned, nodding his head unceremoniously and reaching for the unconscious man.

Yuri's shirt was the first thing to go. It was heavy and cold to the touch, an indication of how long he was floating in the ocean, something that brought chills down Flynn's spine despite the sudden heat in the room. The bare skin underneath was riddled with soft scars and scratches— some large, most small. It amazed Flynn how Yuri managed to keep up his appearance, given his lust for battle and all things trouble; after all these years, the vigilante managed to have the most perfect skin, silken and smooth, and a body that made his wounds look like perfectly painted strokes on a canvas.

Sodia, unimpressed by Yuri's figure, motioned to the faded-white material that was tightly wrapped around his waist. It was tied together neatly; crimson blood met saltwater underneath. Flynn pulled at the material, being as gentle as his nervous hands would let him, and was greeted with a bloody gash at the other end. His predictions were correct: Yuri had been attacked, most likely after battling Alexei, and met with the ocean soon afterward. Sodia gasped and dropped the gels onto the floor.

"This is unlike nothing we've seen on the battlefield," Flynn steadily reminded her. "Just … try to keep calm." He wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to himself.

And then Flynn was the first to break the sudden immobility in the room—_better sooner than later_. He placed the dropped gels on the cot adjacent and broke a Pineapple Gel with his nails, rubbing the mass into Yuri's wound. Sodia hesitantly followed suit and applied an Apple Gel to the guildsman's skin. They continued to mend Yuri's injury, silently, neither one of them looking at each other until Flynn posed a question.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, Sir." Sodia couldn't keep her eyes off of the man lying before her. "Just … startled." Flynn responded with a dampened chuckle and her eyebrows rose. "… What?"

"I just never imagined you reacting with such emotion in regard to Yuri," he said. "Never."

"I didn't expect him to come back," Sodia confessed, and when Flynn looked in her eyes, he saw the truth. He stayed quiet as she broke and meticulously rubbed another gel into Yuri's skin.

An eerie silence covered the room until Sodia spoke once more. "Should we notify them? … Brave Vesperia?"

_Brave Vesperia_. The very sound of the guild's name made Flynn's stomach churn in ways he couldn't explicitly explain to himself, but he tried to nonetheless. It just seemed that Yuri had been distancing himself from his best friend as the years went by, little by little, and the conception of the guild was the catalyst. It started when he abandoned his promise, the promise he and Flynn made _together_, packing his bags and leaving the knights for good, but then he met _them_—those _people_, those strong fighters, the same ones who fought by Yuri's side and cried genuine tears when he didn't show up after the dust cleared—and his disagreements with Flynn became more frequent, his actions became more divergent …

He couldn't tell them. He couldn't tell anyone.

He didn't know who to trust, after all. He was initially under the impression that Yuri just … fell into the water, probably dazed or startled by the rocks falling from the sky, but the wound he sustained told another story. Despite Flynn's acute … _insecurity? jealousy?_ towards Brave Vesperia, he knew assuming that any of them had betrayed Yuri was out of the question. That only left one of his knights as the culprit, and though he wanted to bring this mystery person to justice as quickly as possible, it would be pointless to make the Knights aware that Yuri had been found, at least for now. The person responsible would flee before Flynn could even try to apprehend them, and Yuri's well-being came first. It always had.

"Not now," Flynn finally said, grabbing a nearby blanket. He pulled the stained compress from under Yuri's body and began to wrap the new piece of cloth around his abdomen, avoiding eye contact with the other knight. "We can't tell them now. We can't tell … anyone now."

This entire experience taught Sodia more things than she wanted to learn. For starters, she had a rather telling nervous habit— she would bite her lip when roused, often so hard that she would start to taste bitter blood in her mouth. The hallucinations were another lesson in disguise— she was a weak person, all in all, and maybe wasn't cut out for bloody combat. And then there was the Commandant. He used to be simple old Flynn, the boy who rose from the ranks and fought for fairness and only wanted the best for everyone, even if it was at his expense, but she was introduced to another side of this man— his vulnerable side, the part of him that wanted to ensure his own stability first. It was almost fascinating.

She paused. "What about the Princess?"

… Sodia was right. There was absolutely no way that Flynn could keep such a huge secret from Estellise—it would eat at him inside, tear him apart. Estelle was bright and sunny and only deserved happiness, and after everything she had been through, everything that Alexei had put her through … didn't she, of all people, deserve to know that Yuri wasn't still missing in action? And there was a rational reason to tell Estelle as well: she was an excellent healer, and _not_ requesting her aid could potentially be a death sentence.

He would ask Estellise to join him and Sodia. He would ask her in a way that would insinuate for her to keep her friends in the dark. And he would not feel remorse. Yuri's shirt was still drenched, so Flynn wrapped him with a larger blanket, hoping that it would keep him warm until they reached dry land. He then requested a pen and paper, walked towards his table, moved the map away, and began to compose a letter.

_Dear Estellise,_

_ We may have found a lead in Yuri's disappearance— an important one, no less._

He cringed at his choice of words. This was deception in every way, but he knew that if he told the Princess the truth, that Yuri was _here_, she would bring the entire capital to see him if she could. He continued to write.

_The many loose ends of this matter are troubling and multiple theories have rendered their heads; therefore, I am urging you to keep the contents of this letter to yourself. Because you are a good friend of mine and a dearly close friend of Yuri's, I think it would be best if we convene in …_

Flynn ruffled his eyebrows, unsure of what to write next, and began to nervously tap his pen instead. Meet him … where? There were very few places where he, the Acting Commandant, clothed in all his newly-found glory, could venture with an injured guildsman. Zaphias was a definite no— too many knights, too many members of the Council. Halure was a suitable option, already well-known for its therapeutic properties, but its proximity to the capital waved a red flag. Yuri would most likely plead on his deathbed (a very bad mental image) to be taken to Dahngrest under any circumstances, but Flynn's shiny new position prevented that from becoming a reality. He considered Capua Nor in all his desperation, but the Knights had a looming presence within the port. Minutes upon minutes of deliberation led to Flynn finally deciding that he needed to find an area with three qualities: neutrality, safety, and privacy.

He reached for his trusty map and began to study Terca Lumireis for possible sanctuaries. Tolbyccia? No. Ilyccia? No. Hypionia? _Well … _

Her name was Rose. She lived a story above Yuri and Flynn and was the parent they never had, often preparing them dinner before they returned home from their nightly "journeys" and paying their share of taxes when they couldn't find enough coin on the street. Flynn remembered visiting the Lower Quarter for the first time since he enlisted in the knights and hearing the rumors— that she, along with other poor Zaphians, had run away to Hypionia with the goal of finding "hope." Flynn searched for her after Yuri left the Knights, longing to relive even the smallest part of his childhood, if anything, and stumbled upon the newborn town during his quest. It was small, quaint, and only housed a handful of structures, but the villagers were warm and friendly and greeted him with open arms, and when he found her, she sang him old lullabies and read him stories and told him about her love for her new land.

The area in question may have been small, but it reminded him of neutrality and new beginnings. He circled the region on his map and, with a light smile, explained everything to his second-in-command. Today they would set sail for the south, find the developing town, set up a camp, and request Estelle's assistance. They tidied up, disposing of the gel wrappers and cleaning up the abandoned socks, and while Sodia slung their belongings on her back, Flynn carried Yuri on his.

Yuri was heavier than he used to be, but lighter than Flynn had expected. It had been years since Flynn held his best friend and it brought back memories of the two scraping their knees, laughing and rolling in the Zaphian mud and carrying each other when one of them was too tired to walk back home. And then he was afraid—afraid of the way Yuri had changed physically _and _mentally, and it hit him all at once, harder than any wave that had ever crashed to any shore. He really was losing Yuri— losing him to the enemies who would put up a fight, to the cities that sheltered his lifestyle, and to the people who shared his ideals.

As he boarded the boat and watched Sodia push them off the dock, Flynn was certain of one thing and one thing alone— his selfishness. And the best part of it all was when he felt Yuri's head stir on his shoulder.

* * *

_Dear Estellise,_

_ We may have found a lead in Yuri's disappearance— an important one, no less. The many loose ends of this matter are troubling and multiple theories have rendered their heads; therefore, I am urging you to keep the contents of this letter to yourself. Because you are a good friend of mine and a dearly close friend of Yuri's, I think it would be best if we convene in Northeast Hypionia. There is a small outpost of Zaphian refugees there, and they call the area 'the land of hope.' I know the circumstances surrounding this meeting may seem odd and rushed, but please, trust me. I am hoping to see you soon._

_Sincerely,_

— _Flynn_

* * *

(A/N): I love getting inside of Flynn's head. Even though I respect his role as the Good Knight/hopeful idealist, I like the idea of him acting selfish at times and doing what brings him gratification, especially after an event that basically brought Alexei's manipulative qualities to light. He has to slip up sometimes, you know? He's only human. But yeah; lying, deceit, and the mention of an original character, oh my. The next chapter will be more … exciting, I promise. Get ready for Estelle!


End file.
